The Scout's Dream
by Redblossom of RiverClan
Summary: Morell was your average hungry, brave and perilous hare. Until his first visit to Redwall Abbey brings with it a dire warning. Will Morell heed Martin's words? Or will he turn his back on the way of the warrior? Rated T for violence. DISCONTINUED AT THE MOMENT. BE BACK SOON.


**Disclaimer: I live in a cardboard box and own nothing.**

**Chapter 1**

Extract from the writings of Samson, Recorder of Redwall Abbey:

The Summer of the Sparkling Minnow,

It occurs to me that the sound of Dibbuns playing in summertime is the most excellent sound in Redwall. Indeed, only this morning, my good friend Durby Cellarhog remarked to me; "Do you not wish that you were young and sprightly enough to climb the battlements to re-enact so many of the great battles of old?" And indeed I do, for I look back on my Dibbun days, however long ago they may seem, with fondness. So many of my great friends have long since passed, it is only me, Durby and Sareth (the Abbey's Badgermum) left of the old days. But I digress. There are younger and stronger beasts in the Abbey now, Morell the infamous long patrol scout for instance. He and Cap'n Fingul K. Beechmace arrived yesterday at noon. Gurrfeln, the head cook, is resigned to the famished hares eating us out of house and home. And I must say I agree with him; they've done nothing but pester the cooks since they arrived. But I must abandon my quill now; for I can smell the most excellent fragrance in Redwall; a feast!

XxXxX

A knock on the Gatehouse door caused Samson to jump heartily. He reached for his cloak as he called out, "Do come in, the door is open!" And so, Morell entered the room looking slightly fidgety and inpatient,

"All right, old chap?" Morell said briskly, "Mother Sareth said I should fetch you to dinner before I could scoff anything. Blinkin' cheek, if you consider that the feast is being thrown in my honour. Wot?"

"Well, I'm sorry to have pulled you away from the festivities. Perhaps you could describe the food to work up my appetite." Samson laughed good-humouredly.

"Well Sah! There's strawberry-flan-an'-turnip-'n'-tater-'n'-beetroot- deeper-'n'-ever-pie-an'-vegitable-pasty-an'-oatcak es-with-good-mature-cheese… an' that's just what I can smell from here! And to drink there was strawberry an' elderflower cordial an' mint tea, I am quite partial to a little mint tea after supper, an' Durby's best ever oak matured Mead. Sounds like a jolly good feast, wot? Wotwot?" Morell said all of this without pausing for breath, and then added, with a slight blush, "But best of all, I have been placed next to a jolly pretty little filly, name of Minty Oakbranch. Ain't that just top-hole, I say!"

Samson and Morell entered a Great Hall that was buzzing with chatter and laughter. Everybeast fell silent when Abbot Alfred stood up to say Grace;

'Strawberry, Raspberry, Bramble too,

Thanks that we may feast on you,

With silver fish, whose life we take,

Only for a meal to make.'

Everybeast laughed and looked around when a small, mole voice piped up;

"Gurr, Amen, t' that Zurr. Boi okey, Amen!"

The Redwallers settled down for the feast with much laughter and joviality. The food was even better than Morrell had described, there was Woodland and Summercream Pudding, Strawberry Flan, Watershrimp and Hotroot soup, Turnip and 'Tater and Beetroot Deeper than Ever Pie, Oatcakes and a hundred different kinds of cheese. Morrell stared at the spread for a quarter of a second and then dived in, much to the amusement of the Dibbuns.

At the far end of the table Sister Clove sniffed her disapproval and remarked to Mother Sareth;

"Just look at that horrible gluttonous hare, he has no table manners whatsoever! I have half a mind to go over there and tell him off myself!" Sareth smiled indulgently, tucking into her barley toast and honey.

"Perhaps you should suggest a song instead, that would keep him away from the food, for a while at least!" Sareth proposed.

"That's a splendid idea, Sareth!" Abbot Alfred said loudly, from his seat behind her, "come on Morell, a song!" The hare looked up from his food in surprise.

"Father, Sah! Surely you're not askin' a poor, hungry soldier to abandon his well-earned victuals?" he cried, seeming a little flustered. "That would be a bally cruel thing to do to a chap!" He carried on in this indignant manner until Minty spoke from beside him.

"Oh, go on, I'm sure it'll be top-hole, old toff! We always enjoyed a jolly good ballad in the barracks of Salamandastron!" she chuckled. Minty was a long patrol officer, who had come to Redwall four seasons ago after becoming lost in Mossflower Woods. She was, as Morrell had earlier mentioned, a very pretty young hare.

"Well," Morrell faltered, "I s'pose, on the word of a lovely gel, here goes!

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

There's a feast in Redwall,

Yes, it looks like a ball!

Just pour the October Ale,

And pass me that pudden,

It looks like a good 'un!

With pudden, you simply can't fail!

And before I pass out,

Please hand me some trout,

So tasty I think I might die!

So, last but not least,

I eat at this feast,

An absolutely splendiferous pie!"

Morrell bowed happily before returning to his piled plate with a vengeance. The Redwallers clapped and cheered until they were hoarse, with the exception of Sister Clove, who sat silently and stared at her salad.

At the end of the night, the Redwallers settled down to sleep, happy and content with their peaceful and plentiful lives.

XxXxX

Gripesneek, a lowly, but vicious, officer in Vannsky's horde, sneered at Salldowr contemptuously as he hung his head in shame.

"Well, matey, Lord Vannsky won't be very 'appy wiv you, will 'e? You bin away fer a week lookin' fer vittles, an' you return wiv 'alf a starlin' an' some grubby roots!" Gripesneek kicked the cowering weasel viciously, "Dat ain't gonna feed the forces is it? I fink you'd better go back out an' find somefink else, 'adn't you?"

Salldowr squirmed, "Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!" He tripped over the Moleskin rug as he left the tent, a quivering wreck and stumbled towards his mate, Ansee. She was a cunning and cruel vermin, swift as a dagger and fatal as poison. As she bandaged his wounds she berated him harshly.

"What was you finkin', toad brains? Away from yer family fer a week, on'y to come back an' then git sent away agin. S'not good enuff. Dis time ye'd better come back wif some decent vittles, d'you 'ear me? If'n ye get sent to Hellgates before yer time, where'd me 'n Ascar be?" She gestured to their tiny babe as she pulled Salldowr's bandage a little tighter than strictly necessary. Salldowr cowered beneath his mate's enraged glare.

"Yes, nex' time mebbe ye'll fink o' dat, eh? Don't squirm ye cowardly lardbucket! Now git away!" Ansee watched her hapless mate scamper into the forest, as much as she was annoyed at Salldowr, she mostly blamed Gripesneek for this unfortunate turn of events. Somehow, the fox had to go.

XxXxX

Lord Vannsky was not a Lord to trifle with. He was the ruler of a thousand vermin, richer than the richest Horde leader and a born fighter. But at that moment Vannsky was worried, very worried. He could feel a stirring in the ranks and he was far from happy about it. The main problem was Gripesneek.

Gripesneek was only an officer, but since one of Vannsky's Captains had been killed, murdered probably, he had been looking to be promoted. Recently Vannsky had noticed Gripesneek seemed to be taking it upon himself to issue orders and deal punishments. It seemed to him that many vermin looked at Gripesneek as leader now, and Vannsky was not happy about that whatsoever.

But how to get rid of him? Who had a bone to pick with him? Suddenly he thought of Ansee. The female weasel was currently in a prison pit after she had been apprehended trying to slip poisonous berries into Gripesneek's meal. Vannsky gritted his teeth as he realised that Gripesneek had not thought to run that punishment past him before he issued it. A plan began to form in his mind as he remembered Ascar and his unfortunate father, Salldowr.

"Garrtooth!" he called to his Stoat servant, "Fetch Salldowr, now!"

XxXxX

Salldowr approached the vermin Lord's tent with apprehension. He stopped outside of the tent, unsure what to do. Suddenly Garrtooth materialised in front of him. The Stoat bowed mockingly and welcomed him inside. Vannsky's tent was rich in stolen wealth and expensive jewellery. The Fox Lord himself wore a sky blue cloak, in honour of his name, and he had an assortment of deadly looking weapons strung around his waist.

"Salldowr, matey! Why do you look so glum?" the fox signalled to Garrtooth to sit Salldowr down. With a click of his fingers, some pretty, enslaved mousemaids entered the tent with Ale and victuals. Salldowr stared at the food suspiciously. Vannsky sighed dramatically and clicked his fingers again. A small hunched-over hedgehog approached.

"Bow to the nice weasel, Spikepig." Vannsky said, his voice sweet and wheedling. The hedgehog's frame bent, ever so slightly, his face was contorted as though it was difficult to move.

"Now have a bite or two of his food." The hedgehog reached out and took a pawful from Salldowr's plate. He ate it quickly and then took a sip of the Ale. After a few minutes had passed, Salldowr saw that nothing had happened to the hedgehog, so he dug in with relish. When Salldowr had finished devouring his meal, Vannsky spoke again.

"Now, Weasel. I need you to do something for me."


End file.
